


After the Fire

by lucieyh



Category: Lord of the Flies - William Golding
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 09:00:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12814122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucieyh/pseuds/lucieyh





	After the Fire

The storm has passed. The night is clear; the air fresh and cooler than before. The forest is soaked and shining. Leaves reflect celestial light through glossy coats of rainwater. Pink rock is slippery and dampened to a ruddier blush. A miraculous spray of stars and planets trembles against a liquid sky.  
The beach has been abandoned. Remains of a large bonfire form a bruise on the far end, near a rise in the pink rock. Miniature dunes kicked up by frantic feet dimple the sand. Hastily carved pathways are poked into the exterior of the damp forest; weaving through the thick foliage like long fingers. Broken and littered across the beach are sharpened sticks, soiled at the ends with blood. The sea sighs and gasps to a sleepy rhythm, as if it were tired of its pattern and wished to lie still on the shoreline, silent in awe of the sky. All is calm, rid of the blue lightning and cracks of thunder. The dancing savages and their demonic fire have dissipated. But the beach expresses no solace in this quiet, glazed aftermath. Instead; numbness. The stars shiver.

A boy lay crumpled and broken, dirtied with blood, on a section of shoreline. His is the only heartbeat not hidden deep in the forest, and soon the fading pulsations recognize their location and fall in sync with the ebb and flow of the water; his breath follows and he is falling asleep, lying still and silent, drifting out and up…

A rustling in the leaves. The snapping of twigs and a brush of grass; wet leaves shake and shower raindrops onto a filthy mess of fair hair. A shadowy figure stumbles onto the beach, gangly and angular with hunger. His drunken footsteps beat the moonlit sand. He clutches his wounds and spear, whimpering to himself. His head is a throbbing pain; a horrific circulation of fire, painted bodies and wild eyes, punctuated by screams. The shock of passion has faded, but an electric buzz still quickens his pulse. The world appears flushed with fever through his vision.  
Through half-closed eyes, he examines the slaughtered beast. There is a spine, sculpting a line of knobs into the curved back, and a weaving of bony arms and legs gathered close to the quiet heart. There is a head, angled so the pointed chin lingers only an inch above the small chest, and a nest of coarse black hair knotted with dried blood. There are limp little feet and droopy eyelids. Its skin is torn, bitten, punctured, ruined. A child’s cry for mercy is ghostlike on parted lips.

A picture rises before him. He sees a boy’s face gaping in a scream, gray eyes wide and lit with fear. The boy is a small, raven-haired creature encircled with pointed sticks.There is a pulsation of adrenaline; screams like the manic buzzing of flies. Then, in his muddled memory, he sees the spears meet flesh. 

The savage drops his spear.  
His head is a throbbing pain. A blinding flash of fire in the night; constant and angry behind his eyes. Fire, fire, everywhere; dry sand beneath his feet; gunshot thunder shattering, heartbeat deafening, red pulsations hot as flame; Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!  
He was blind, it was dark, he didn’t know-  
A boy’s face gaping in a scream, gray eyes; small, raven-haired; pointed sticks; pulsing-  
A scream like the manic buzzing of flies.

Footsteps wild and desperate shatter the sand.  
A rustling in the leaves; droplets fall on mud and muddy skin.  
The screaming savage, blinded by his visions, hurdles himself back into abyss.

The beach has been abandoned. Cool breezes and glazed numbness. Ruddy pink rock, shining leaves; an ocean falling asleep on the shore. Under a spray of stars, the dozing waves reach for the broken creature and cradle him in their wake; finding comfort, they pull him deeper and closer, until he rests beneath the surface, soft and blue and quiet.


End file.
